


Invisible String

by theglamourfades



Category: The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Post-Season/Series 03, Slow Burn, a girl can dream, probably going to turn out to be AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglamourfades/pseuds/theglamourfades
Summary: Midge is thinking about the unthinkable: giving up comedy for good. It seems like the world - or just possibly, fate - has other plans, else why would she find herself in a dive bar watching the best there is? Midge x Lenny, post-season 3.
Relationships: Lenny Bruce (The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel)/Miriam "Midge" Maisel
Comments: 18
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who read and/or left kudos or commented on my first Midge x Lenny fic. It was a pretty nervewracking experience to post it and I was so thrilled with the response. Partly because of that, and partly because I just love these two so much, I'm back for more!
> 
> This fic is how I would like S4 to go, in an ideal world.
> 
> Title is from the Taylor Swift song of the same name; not in keeping with the era of TMMM, I know, but it just kind of fit so I'm going with it.

_A string that pulled me  
Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar  
Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire  
Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons  
One single thread of gold tied me to you_ _  
_

* * *

She might have said that the last couple of months had felt like sleepwalking. She wanted to believe that was how it was, to state with absolute confidence that someone else – someone far more responsible who knew everything about the steps they were making before they'd put one foot in front of the other – had put on her clothes, took up residence in her head and had their hands on the steering wheel.

_Time to stop the charade and the dress-up. You need direction._

The compass was broken and she couldn't face looking at herself in the mirror most days, which went some way to explaining what she was wearing right now. Her instinct since driving away from that runway was to blend in, go unnoticed. The desire to stand out, a need that was never fulfilled for long enough, was exactly the thing that kept pulling her into the shit. It might be bearable if it was just about her, only her own reputation that she was running down past below ground.

But there was Susie. Susie, who'd been there from the start to fight her corner (at times literally) and plough money that she didn't have into getting her a little higher up the ladder.

Mama and Papa, who were finally looking at her with something resembling pride. Especially Mama, who wouldn't be shouting from the rooftops and telephoning all of her lunch-club friends to repeat the words she'd heard her say under the glare of the stage lights, but who couldn't stop herself bragging about her daughter opening for Shy Baldwin.

She took a long slug from her glass that wasn't even that substantial, every millisecond of that last set assaulting her thoughts in technicolor and with the volume turned up as high as it would go, the recollections more painful every time they were replayed.

There was Shy himself. The last she heard he was still selling out all over, women still sneaking around and setting up camp outside of stage doors (she'd seen them with her own eyes and understood the motivation), waiting for him to pick them out amongst the rest. It didn't matter that the shine of his star had not been dulled by the insinuations of some Upper West Side broad who thought she was being smart. It was how she dared to think she could even go there in the first place. For all his fame and the adulation being showered upon him, she knew that he had worked harder than she ever could and that behind her words laid the weight of privilege.

Ethan and Esther were too young to understand, but the day would come quicker than she realised. Probably another kid, not that much older, would be too eager and too precocious. The embarrassment, more than that, the _shame_ in their once-innocent eyes would wound her deeper than anything else.

She held all of this, fought against the combined pull dragging her down and quite often struggled to keep her head above water. It wasn't a clear-cut decision, not yet, but everything she'd done – or more accurately, _hadn't_ done – over the last couple of months was solidifying it in the back of her mind. There was still a reluctance, her own self that hadn't grown up as yet clinging on, clawing at her heels. She had to be firm, use her sternest voice like when Ethan pulled cookie after cookie out of the forbidden jar.

It wasn't going to be any different, no matter how much she tried to convince herself. The temptation to fuck up to an outstanding degree was impossible to resist, it seemed. Like candy to a baby, with none of the excusing that it was cute. Only the guilt and knowing that she ought to know so much better.

Tonight was the first time since the dream world she'd been living in had come crashing down (all thanks to her own big mouth and relentless stupidity) that she let herself sleepwalk, without any reasoned logic or comprehension of just how terrible it would make her feel, during the moment and for so many days afterwards. Bearing all of this in mind she still made her way to the dive bar burrowed away in the most obscure corner of Lower Manhattan as if it were some kind of pilgrimage, the final shot of salvation for her soul that was past all redemption.

Or perhaps it was a last indulgence, a farewell to the scene she'd painted herself into, even if the spotlight wasn't shining down on her this night. Instead she'd creep back out through the shadows, thinking of what could have been if she had a better handle on her limits, catching a cab to a home that wasn't her own, kissing her kids on the tops of their heads and promising that she'd do good from now on.

She hadn't checked the bill beforehand, more out of indifference than fear. Honestly, it was just going to be background noise; a pleasant soundtrack while she ordered enough to make her forget, drowning her sorrows appropriately. She didn't pay too much attention to the first few acts, except to think that one looked like he wasn't that much older than Ethan, which was another kick to the floor given the raucous laughter he was receiving. She heard herself mumbling something in response before reaching for her sadly depleted Martini, clicking her fingers towards the bartender until she realised that was precisely part of the problem.

It was in the space after her profuse apology to the easygoing bartender and before the MC's prolonged introduction of the night's headliner that she should have made her departure. She hardly had to hear the precursory warnings to know exactly who was up, her heart dropping like a stone in the ocean and not reaching the bottom, just plummeting further.

Had she heard something? she asked herself. There were so many places she could have gone to, several lined up on one avenue alone. Fate was intervening yet again, there was no other explanation. He'd always been her God and now here she was, kneeling before him. It was fitting, if nothing else. She leant back in her seat as the lights went down, leaving only one which was filled perfectly by Lenny in his sharp monochrome. One word and a raised hand; that's all he needed to have the audience captivated.

He was blistering, his set absolutely sublime. He spoke at triple the speed than was usual, riffing off himself, leaving several thoughts hanging unfinished before colliding headfirst into another, bigger one. She would always be in awe of him and his brilliance, the fact this was more than a career for him. People _needed_ to hear what he had to say. Why he was playing a place like this was a mystery to her when he should have been selling out theatres, but on a night like this she was glad of it.

She pursed her lips and scratched her nails against her arm countless times, and for most of them she was successful, until one punchline threw her completely and she could do nothing other than burst out. His eyes picked her out of the crowd, though she was all the way at the bar. She felt herself flush at how he smiled to himself while he stood in front of an adoring crowd in the full glare of the spotlight.

He looked good. _Really_ good. The suit that he wore seemed a little more fitted, even though she was thinking of him in rolled-up shirtsleeves strolling languidly as the dark blue Miami skies started to lighten. Staying there obviously had a positive effect on him, and later she would find herself smiling when he told her that he'd had to get out for the sake of his health, or perhaps it was his sanity. _"Too much sunshine and optimism, and other things that are…generally not good for me, even if I might like to argue otherwise."_

The rapturous applause was still ringing in her ears when he appeared before her. Maybe it was the Martinis or the mood she had been in for the last two months but she found herself more astounded than usual at how he just seemed to materialise, even when she had watched him only a couple of minutes previous.

"You bastard." Not the best greeting, but the one she went with regardless. He looked amused as he adjusted the button holding his jacket in place. "You made me laugh."

"I don't know if you know how it works, but that is the intention. If I'm lucky, anyway." She watched as his hand went down to land upon the bar, before her gaze was drawn back to his. "This is unexpected, but I'm not complaining."

"Me neither," she stifled a full-blown smile, somewhat keen to hang on to her sour state of mind.

He looked genuinely happy to see her, which made her happy too but also like she could burst into tears in the next moment. She'd been holding back, making the conscious effort to do so, and it was just now that she realised it probably wasn't a good thing. The way he looked at her, so considerate and as though she was the only person in the room, touched something inside, a place that was raw from the last time they had seen each other.

She could see that he was confused, too, trying to work it out before she offered any explanation.

"Shit," he said suddenly, dipping a little towards her with his other hand inside the lapel of his jacket, "was it someone I knew well? Do I need to do something, send flowers and deepest condolences?"

She was flummoxed for a moment before she looked down at herself, her black button-up, black cigarette pants and black ballet flats. It almost looked as though she was consciously trying to emulate him, which was a comforting thought.

"Oh, no. No, you're good," she supplied, seeing his shoulders sag with relief. "It's just the death of my comedy career. Nothing at all to be concerned about."

He sunk into the seat beside her, his look deeply concerned all the while. She let out a strained laugh, which she did worry was going to turn into a sob at any moment.

"You don't need to…"

She didn't think she was going to explain, but his complete lack of expectation gave her the courage. She told him the full story of what happened at the Apollo, what happened afterwards and everything else that happened since, not that there had been anything of note. She hadn't performed since that night, not even at the Gaslight, which she could see that he found hard to believe.

It wasn't just that, but other things came tumbling out too. Frustrations, fears and doubts that she had held onto for years, some without even realising. She went on, hopping from one thing to another, finding that she just couldn't stop.

All the while he sat there, absorbing everything. The only times he broke off were to placate eager fans who wanted an autograph or to share a few words, showing patience and promising that he'd catch them before they left. Every time she looked up from her lap his eyes were upon her; he was listening as intently as if she were revealing something of far more significance than what an unmitigated disaster she was making of her professional life, not that her personal one was all that much better.

It was when she had remained silent for longer than thirty seconds, having finally run out of steam, that he intervened.

"Two things," he uttered, signifying with the same amount of fingers held aloft, "one; breathe."

She did as he said, taking a couple of prolonged breaths, the second significantly less shaky than the first.

"Two; I'm gonna get you another drink. A couple, in fact."

The reasonable side of her was eager to refuse, but the practical point of her not having more than a singular dollar note on her person counted-balanced the urge. Not to mention that she _really_ needed another drink.

She finished the first in record speed, watching him watch her with something that resembled fondness. Those eyes of his were so warm and wise and understanding. It was hard to get away from them, and right now it was the last thing she wanted to do.

"You feel better?"

She toyed with the stem of the empty glass and then with the back of her neck. "A little. It helps to talk to someone who can empathize."

"Oh, most definitely. I'm still waiting for the dictionary to redefine their definition of _fuck-up_ so that I can cash in some cheques. If they handed out badges every time I fucked up, I would wear them with pride." He gestured to his lapels before leaning forward on his stool towards her. "I hope you're not thinking of making a contention for the title of Biggest Fucker Upper in this godforsaken business we call _comedy_ , Mrs. Maisel, because you are going to have a battle on your hands."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she answered, contemplating the second Martini on the bar. Though her throat was bone-dry, the words she was about to say clogging it up, she didn't make the move to drink. "I think…I'm pretty sure I'm going to…give it up."

Those last three came out as a mumble, merged into one. She wasn't entirely sure that she had said them at all, given that she was met with silence as a response. Before she could ask whether he had heard, she looked up from the ring of condensation on the bar that was absolutely fascinating to find those eyes pinned to her again. He arched his back, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"If only it were that easy, or that much of a luxury."

A surge of petulance rose up within her. "Nothing about this has been easy. Nothing."

His face changed on the turn of a dime; he looked uncomfortable and hurt by the harshness of her tone, which in turn made her feel even more shit than she already felt.

"Midge, I didn't…it wasn't a personal insult."

"I know," she sighed, "I'm just being…"

She didn't know how to finish the sentence, so she did nothing else but left it hanging in the air.

"It's a surprise, is all. To hear that from you."

"Like I say, it's not something I've come to lightly. It just hit harder this time. Knocked me clean off my feet and hurt like hell." In so many ways.

He nodded his head rhythmically, and she knew that he understood better than anyone. Not that they hadn't tried – Susie, her parents...hell, even Joel. But she hadn't been this honest with any of them about what she was feeling and the way she saw her life panning out, which was completely unclear to her right now.

"And when something hurts like that – I mean, really bruises you, from the inside and out – then to keep doing it would just be sadistic, right?"

"I may not be the best person to comment upon that."

His deadpan delivery and tiniest pull of a smirk made her soft at the edges.

"The audience knows what they're getting in to when they buy a ticket. Or at the very least, they have a notion." His tone was altogether more serious, then swiftly flipped to cutting. "It's not safety-proofed, and you're not infallible. If people can't accept that you're human, then fuck them. They shouldn't be in the water in the first place if they're not prepared for the waves to rise. That is not down to you."

She replied with a wavering smile, flattered that he was so passionate on her behalf but knowing at the same time that she didn't merit his defences, not on this occasion.

"If it was only me I was hurting, that would be fine. But it's not." Her throat was burning like a wildfire, causing her to nearly choke on her words. "I'm hurting other people too. Shy, I can't even think… and Susie…I can't even help…"

The tears came to claim victory before she could get anything else out, making her hide her face behind her hands as she spluttered and sniffled loud, oblivious to everything other than the fact that Lenny was sitting in front of her, bearing witness to the whole show.

"Hey. Midge."

She took them away slowly, the shape of him blurry before her.

"Do you want to go somewhere?"

She shook her head while she dabbed at her eyes, at first with her fists and then with a napkin that looked clean enough.

"It's okay," she said, in slight disbelief that she had broke down like that. She knew that she wasn't the most attractive of criers, which made her want to kick herself, repeatedly. "I wouldn't say no to…if that's okay…"

"Sure," he replied, holding out the carton of cigarettes and then the lighter.

Those first couple of drags set her on a more even keel, tipping her head towards the ceiling as she exhaled so that her field of vision wasn't obscured further. She appreciated more than ever that they could sit in silence for a little while and it didn't feel uncomfortable, as much as she enjoyed volleying smart remarks back and forth. She wasn't in that frame of mind at the moment and he recognised that. He offered the carton to her again and she took another with a smile, depositing it into her purse for later.

"This is not what you need post-set."

He shrugged his shoulders. "As it goes, this is one of the better nights."

He was being so nice to her, so generous with his time. In truth she had been anxious about seeing him again after how she had walked away from him in Miami. The more she replayed that almost-perfect night in her head the longer she lingered on the worst part of it, the moment she had turned things sour with her mention of getting a cab.

She should have known better, that he would take her stupid mistake with good humour. He was not the type to hold it over her head, not like other people whom she knew far too well. She supposed that he couldn't have exactly snubbed her, not when she was the one who had sought him out, albeit unconsciously.

She would be lying to herself if she were to swear that she hadn't thought about it since. Thought about how the night could have gone so differently, if only she would have stepped over the threshold. In her mind he would have took a few seconds to let it sink in, staring at her with that look that she'd given up on trying to define in his eyes as she was framed by the doorway, and then he followed her inside, shutting the door behind him and the rest of the world with it.

"I'm not going to tell you what to do, because that never works."

She almost wished that he would. If anyone had mystic abilities or the power to know what was going to happen in the future, she honestly believed that Lenny did.

"All I can say is what I know to be true. That is, that you are one of – if not _the_ most – natural, gifted, wildly talented and incredibly funny acts out there. This shit is not a walk in the park. It's hard. It makes you exhausted, it consumes your life, it tears out your soul."

"This is _exactly_ the pep-talk that I wanted, thank you."

A spark of a smile flickered in his eyes, encouraging her to keep it coming now that she was bouncing back.

"On anyone else, everyone else that I've seen, it shows. The fear, the horror, the desperation to get enough laughs to light the spark and keep it going. Not once have I seen that with you. You embody fearlessness. Joy radiates out of you and it is infectious. What you have spreads through the room like magnificence."

She was genuinely speechless, astounded for one of the few times in her life. Coming after weeks where she had berated herself, constantly beat herself up for what she had said for cheap laughs – precisely because she was absolutely and utterly _terrified_ – what he was telling her, without a hint of exaggeration, was almost too much to process.

The fact that it was coming from him too both helped and completely hindered matters.

"Everyone fucks up, but it's what you do with it afterwards that counts. How you go forward. I'm not saying that the hurt is a good thing, exactly, but it is good that it hurts you, for now. It shows how much you care."

He stopped to put out his smoked-down cigarette and take a sip of whiskey.

"I can never imagine that you would stop caring about anything, Miriam Weissman."

"You're going to make me cry again," she said, shaking her head to stop the tears from springing.

"My apologies. Unless you'd rather that than laugh. It does seem to be easier for me when it comes to the fairer sex."

"Now, Leonard, what would your mother say if she knew you were telling lies?"

"I _know_ that she would encourage it. Where do you think I get it from?"

"Well, I think better about the both of you, if that's any consolation." She smiled at him, feeling lighter and hoping that the feeling wasn't temporary. "Thank you. I needed to tell someone. I was starting to go crazy."

"Any time. Don't they say something about craziness? That it seeks out company, or something."

"I couldn't possibly comment," she replied with another smile. "I could bequeath my joke books to you. Lot of dick jokes in there that are good to go."

"Sounds great," he nodded, jutting his chin out slightly, "I could do with a different, much more specific, reason to get arrested. I'm kind of running out."

"I'm keeping the black satin dress though. Sorry to disappoint."

"Ah, well, you can't win them all."

By now she was positively grinning up at him, having enjoyed their exchanges and feeling a little like her old self.

Making her way across the city once the clock struck twelve wasn't the most inviting prospect; she was afraid that once she set foot outside the bar that the spell would break, the cab that Lenny hailed on her behalf turning into a pumpkin before the chance she got to climb inside. Just as well that her shoes still fit properly.

And Lenny was... _well._

He opened the door for her and she smiled in response, not realising until later that night – or more accurately, the early morning – that she had been fluttering her eyelashes too.

"Thank you for listening," she said, winding the window right down, much to the driver's chagrin. "Despite everything, it's been a wonderful night. As usual."

"I have to agree. Thank you for coming. It can't have been easy."

"I think I'm more of a sadist than I realise."

He laughed at that, making her feel a frisson of delight.

"There's no rush, you know," he said, his arm leaning against the open window, his elbow less than an inch away from her hand, "just sleep on it for a while."

"I thought you weren't going to tell me what to do?"

"Okay, one strike."

"I'm going to be keeping score."

"Oh, I'd expect nothing less," he retorted, wearing a smile that went straight to the pit of her stomach and ended up settling lower. "This might not mean much, but I believe in you. Whatever you decide to do."

Goddammit, if her heart wasn't fluttering ridiculously fast.

"And if I decide to go permanent at B. Altman, never set foot in another club ever again," she said, feeling her words accelerate faster in time to the beating within her chest, "we'll still be friends, right?"

She was undecided about a lot of things right now, but one thing she was certain of was that she never wanted to lose him.

"Always," he replied, leaning in just a little closer.

"Good," she said, "you don't get rid of me that easily, I'm sorry to say."

"Hey, pal, are you gonna get in the car or what?"

The disgruntled voice of the driver interrupted their pleasant conversation.

"You do know who you're talking to?" she answered, despite not being addressed. "That's Lenny Bruce."

"Never heard of him."

"Sir, thank you for keeping my ego in check," Lenny rejoindered.

"Anyway, he's paid you already so I don't know why you're complaining."

"I don't get paid to wait at the sidewalk, lady!"

"Okay, okay. I guess I better go then."

She turned to face Lenny again. If this had been the third or fourth time they had met since Miami she would have took a chance and asked him if he wanted to get in the cab too. Things felt a little too fragile, even with the night that had passed.

"I'll pay you back, I promise."

"Don't worry about it. Just come to another gig and don't burst into tears afterwards, then we're even. Take care of yourself, hey?"

"Yeah. You too."

She waved at the same time as she wound the window back up, so as not to rile the driver any further, looking out of the back until Lenny was no longer visible against the cloak of the night. She had expected for her spirits to plummet at the point that the cab drove away, but he'd had a much deeper effect which made her smile to herself.

"I'm supposed to know who that beau of yours is, then?"

"Oh, he's not mine," she responded to the driver's query, while feeling a pang of regret in her chest. _He could have been. Why didn't you just lie?_ "But, yes, he's the best comedian this country has ever seen. You should totally check him out. So long as you don't have a weak heart or anything. But then I guess you wouldn't be driving a yellow cab if that was the case. At least I hope it isn't. I've been having something of a crisis lately, but I really would like to live for a little while longer…at least to figure out where I want to head and get further down the road to enjoy the sights…"

"Jeez, lady, I didn't ask for your life story."

"Your loss," she said, sitting back comfortably against the worn leather, "because I have to say, it's really interesting. You wouldn't believe half of the things that have happened."

A smile crossed her face, doors that she had slammed shut having their handles tested again.

"And that's not even taking into account what's going to come next."

* * *

She woke up the next morning with a surprisingly clear head, given all of the Martinis she had drained. It was early but the kids were still asleep, blissful silence surrounding her and the sunlight edging its way into the room slowly. She lay staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, and then bounded to the bathroom, removing the curlers from her hair.

Today, she smiled at herself in the mirror and didn't feel like a fraud, for the first time in what was really too long.

She went to the window, taking the phone with her as she followed the rise of the sun with keen eyes. She bit lightly on her bottom lip, knowing that her optimism for the early hour would not be returned – at least not before she could pass on the good news.

"What in the name of ever-living fuck – Miriam, I know you own a goddamn clock, may I suggest that you take a look at it before waking me from my precious and elusive sleep?"

"Good morning to you too, Susie."

"Believe me, there is nothing good about it, unless you get the hell off the line."

"I thought you might want to know, that's all."

"Whatever it is, it can wait until a reasonable hour and I'm actually able to digest it."

She smiled at Susie's grouchiness and the sight of the most incredible sunrise filling the sky.

"I'll let you sleep, I swear. Especially because you're going to need your energy to get me some bookings."

"Wha – holy shit, Midge, you're telling me you've finally come to your senses?"

"Yep," she replied cheerily, "I'm going back. You didn't really think I could stay away, did you?"

She kept the act up, knowing that she was the only one who ever needed convincing that comedy was all she was meant to do.

Not for the first time, and she was certain it wouldn't be the last, she thanked God for Lenny Bruce.


	2. Chapter 2

"And talking about knowing when it's time to leave, the time has come for me to scoot. You've been a wonderful audience and you certainly know how to make a gal feel appreciated, which is more than can be said for most of the men I've been acquainted with. But don't tell them – or my mother. We wouldn't be able to revive her for at least a year and I'm relying on the free childcare. No need for tears; let's leave with a smoke, a lingering look and the promise to do it again sometime. And rest assured, I will be back, unless I get an offer from a ridiculously wealthy businessman with a penchant for Jewish divorcees who can cook, clean, keep a trim figure and do all sorts of inventive things with…well, I can't give away all of my secrets, but let's just say breath mints and dental floss are involved. And if one or several happen to be here tonight, please leave your number at the bar and I'll consider all offers very carefully.

I've been Mrs. Maisel, you've been fabulous – the best I've had in a long while, I'm not kidding. Thank you, and goodnight!"

The smile stayed on her face as she left the stage, as well as the white light that danced in illuminated dark spots in her eyes; whoever was in charge of the spotlight was just a touch too eager. She took a couple of moments to bow her head and stop herself from feeling dizzy before heading out, otherwise she was likely to perform an encore that would be remembered for all of the wrong reasons.

As gigs went, it was a pretty good one. The crowd wasn't as large as she would have hoped – not scaling the heights of the places she had become accustomed to before her 'career break' – and she'd had to do some jostling here and there, even rephrasing a punchline or two to get a better reaction. There were a couple of jokes that she was certain would go down a storm, but then again audiences were unpredictable, no matter how closely they were read. She did a good job of adapting on her feet, and it wasn't like the unthinkable had happened – stone-cold silence. Then she really would have to not only crawl under a rock but tie herself to it and launch into the Hudson. At the very least she'd become a legend, if not in the way she had planned.

That was what she had to keep telling herself. The plan had gone off-track, and the main thing was that she was getting herself back on what was going to be a better one. Steady won the race, and while she couldn't exactly sprint in heels, she was doing well at picking up the pace. In the last week alone she had played back-to-back gigs – sometimes more than one in one night. Susie was out-of-town, following up a lead on the possibility of a state tour with four other comics starting in Pennsylvania in less than two weeks time; she already had a couple of bags packed, though it felt a little like tempting fate. It was pretty much a done deal, Susie had assured her. Still, she didn't want to count her chickens and all that. The spectre of failure still haunted her, usually rearing its head in the milliseconds before she was due on stage. She'd had to pull herself up a couple of times, reminding herself to be logical before she ended up giving the finger to an unsuspecting crowd. Not generally the first impression she wanted to make, even on a blue night.

Anyway, nothing compared to the feeling she had right now, when it felt like the blood in her veins had been replaced by unfiltered electricity. When she had gooseflesh on her arms and at the nape of her neck and she wouldn't even have to try very hard to fly right up to the ceiling, breaking through it to touch the stars with her fingertips. She was a fool to ever seriously think about turning her back and not get the chance to experience it again. More than a few moments of madness; over two months of uninterrupted insanity. Not that this was the choice of any sane person, of course. But it was the kind of insanity that she felt at home with, could get a good handle on.

Her mind wandered to another time and place, the only other time she'd experienced the sensations of post-gig high, curiously when it had been some hours after she had played. Every so often – okay, a lot more than that – she heard the song playing, her feet moving she wasn't even sure how. Her head resting on Lenny's shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world, one of his hands on her back. Her favourite thing – the gesture that gave her shivers all over whenever she recollected it – the way he moved her hand up to his neck, completely without rehearsal, letting his fingers trail down her arm so he could hold her closer. She hadn't realised how close they had really been, being completely caught up in the moment. It was the only time she had let herself just be.

She thought she had heard his laugh, just as distinctive as every other aspect of him; mercifully, after one of the jokes that needed the boost. That was what had prompted the thoughts of Miami and the club to resurface, she was almost one hundred per cent certain. She fixed her hair and applied a touch-up of lipstick before leaving the bathroom, and then swerved just to the right, setting herself a few strides outside the male equivalent. A few who exited looked at her strangely, then got a spark of recognition in their eyes and seemed to lose their colour completely. She told them that it wasn't anything personal but she couldn't stretch to refunds, to which they smiled and mumbled something unintelligible before beating a hasty retreat back to their wives, girlfriends, and mistresses.

Lenny, unlike the others, smiled at her.

"Is this some post-set ritual of yours that I'm not aware of? Because it's usually the other way around for me."

"It's where I get inspired the most, don't berate me for it."

He held his hands up in defence, and perhaps also to prove a point. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Given what she had been thinking about vividly not five minutes ago, that mention wasn't entirely helpful. Not when she was picturing him in bed, and not wearing pyjamas either. Most specifically she was picturing what it might be like to have him above her, his mouth upon hers and then on her neck, crooning her name right into her ear in a desperate tone.

_Where the hell did that come from?_

"Midge."

"Huh?"

"You spaced out for a moment there," he supplied, waving his fingers in front of her eyes, "you didn't drink anything before going on?"

"Only what I brought along with me."

He nodded his head in approval. "Sometimes it's the upmarket places that you've got to watch out for. Not that I have a whole lot of experience."

"Well, I'll take that on board."

She was too busy smiling at him to be aware that they were still standing outside the men's room. A couple of older guys huffed at them, and her in particular. Lenny brushed his fingers against her elbow and she became aware of absolutely everything.

She let him move them along to a quieter corner, feeling her heart sag in disappointment when he took his hand away.

"You really ought to call in advance. I could have made more of an effort."

"And spoil the surprise of such a lovely meeting? If you could be standing outside every time I go to the bathroom it would make me think twice about climbing out of the window to avoid the cops."

"Hmm, that's quite a different obligation to standing outside your playdates."

"I mean, if you're looking for some kind of reward, that could be arranged."

"I would say that you could do something to guard my reputation, but we both know that's a lost cause."

"I think that's more to do with the company you keep, Upper West Side."

She tipped her chin down, looking pointedly at him. _I wouldn't change it for the world_. Especially considering her reputation of late had never been so bad, and yet he still liked her enough to support her, and if tonight was anything to go by, deliberately seek her out.

"As you can see, I took your advice."

"I never said it was _advice_ ," he pointed a finger towards her, accusing to an outsider, "I was very clear about not using that word."

"Suggestion, then."

"Marginally better." His lowered hand took residence into the pocket of his trousers. "I heard you were out again. Didn't have the chance to see the evidence for myself until tonight, more's the pity."

"I'm turning over a new leaf. More than one, actually. One: no more fucking up, at least not if I can help it." She held up her fingers to demonstrate, not conscious of how she was assimilating his mannerisms. "That one I'm doing really good at. Aside from one tiny incident at a club a couple of weeks ago which was so insignificant it's not even worth repeating. Susie diverted the conversation so it was all fine, and we left with what we were owed. Two: I am not going to ask what you thought of my set. Although, shit. I guess that counts as asking, right?"

"The placement of the interrogative says that you're doing successfully."

"Great. Then you can see that I'm working at this."

His eyes smiled at her while he hid his mouth with his curled hand. "I will say one thing, if that's permitted."

"Okay, let me brace myself."

"I thought the horse joke was excellent. Inspired. I have no idea why it didn't get a bigger reaction."

"Thank you! I was scratching my head at that one too."

It also proved to her what she had suspected; that he was laughing. Suddenly a joke that she had vowed she was going to ditch entirely had turned into a keeper with his approval.

"Well, I'm glad you could finally make it," she smiled, her cheeks beginning to ache faintly.

"Me too. Although, it does mean that I'm kind of screwed myself."

"Why?"

"I got a gig at eleven, a couple of blocks away. And before then I've got to take all of the dick jokes you so kindly supplied me with out of my set. Hell, I'm going to have to rewrite the whole thing. Thanks a lot, Maisel."

She couldn't stop herself from laughing, which earned her a look that was so deadly serious in response that if she knew he wasn't playing she might have considered turning around and running.

"It's not as bad as that, surely," she uttered calmly, once she had regained her composure, "I've got a few more up my sleeve, totally unused. I won't even charge you for them."

"A lady if there ever was one."

Her stomach flipped over several times in quick succession to hear him call her that, even if it was in jest.

"I can reserve a table for you. It's a classier place than I'm used to, if you can believe that, and I'll get someone to screen all of your drinks."

"Oh, crap. I'd love to, and usually I'd jump at it, but I'm kinda on a curfew tonight." She looked up at him, still towering over her while she was in stilettos, hoping that her eyes reflected her earnest apology. "I've been doing shows non-stop this last week, and I promised my parents that I'd take some steps back, for the sake of Ethan and Esther. If it was next week, instead…"

"Hey, no worries. It's probably going to get cut short anyway, so it's for the best, really."

"Do you need me to be on call? They'll be in bed by then, so I can sneak out if it's needed."

He shook his head. "I'm catastrophizing. Although, selfishly, this is one of the reasons why I'm glad you're back. I don't trust anyone else on the scene to bail me out. They'd all throw away the key, given half the chance."

"That's because they're insanely jealous."

She was still deflated at the thought of missing one of his sets, the fact that it was so close by all the more galling. If she thought things through she was certain that she'd be able to make an escape from the apartment and be back sleeping soundly before either Mama or Papa got up to go to the bathroom, or either or both Ethan and Esther woke from a bad dream.

"Okay," he said, "you want to be less spontaneous."

"I didn't say that, exactly."

"The feeling was there."

"I'm trying to be responsible, and you're being a bad influence."

He smirked at that quip.

"Can I take you out to dinner? Next week. No late night television shows, fake marriages and or familial relationships involved."

The suggestion threw her off course, which was inconvenient as it was precisely what she had been hoping for since before she left Miami and definitely what she had wanted since the last time they had seen each other.

"I'm going to have to check my diary. You know, you really should be asking Susie. Although she's so grateful that you were the one to get me back on track that she'd probably sell me to you anyway."

"Maybe I _should_ be asking her, then."

He somehow managed to carry that off; probably because she absolutely would not be complaining if it was the case, feminist principles briefly be damned. There was also the fact that he looked unbelievably dreamy.

"Wednesday," he continued, "you know how horrific Wednesday nights are."

"They are pretty bad."

"The absolute worst. And it also gives me just enough time to get out of jail, and maybe shave and clean up."

"Aren't I a lucky girl?" she retorted, leaving him hanging for a whole minute even though she wanted to agree straight away. "Okay, you're on, Bruce."

"Wonderful. How does eight sound?"

"I'm always hungry, so it sounds great."

He didn't disguise the smile that stretched across his lips, which turned her insides to mush.

"Okay. Seeing as this planning thing is paying off, I guess I better go and rehearse these dick jokes."

"I look forward to reading the heavily redacted version, I can fill in the blanks."

She stepped into his frame, placing a hand upon his arm. When he dipped down towards her she thought for a good minute that she was going to die.

"I know you want my opinion, Midge."

He spoke close to her ear, the way her name sounded on his tongue incredibly close to how it had sounded in her scandalous daydream. There was a beat of silence which made a parade of shivers lay in wait upon her spine before she felt the warmth of his breath again, as she held her own.

"I think you made the right decision."

* * *

Four days passed achingly slowly, even with the shifts she had at the store. While she was working she was occupied with thinking about new material, making excuses to go to the break room to scribble down lines before she forgot them.

When her mind wasn't coming up with jokes, it settled very firmly upon Lenny and the prospect of dinner. She couldn't quite decide if she could call it a _date_ , although all of the fundamentals were there. On several occasions she had been tempted to call him to ask, never quite able to anticipate his answer. Even if he had given her an unmistakable affirmative she didn't know whether she would have been able to take it on board. There was always something unspoken between them, invisible to the eye. It suited them well to have it _there_ , lingering at the edges, but not to acknowledge it fully.

They'd come close in Miami. A breath away from things catching on fire.

She'd felt it, the flames dancing close to her. She ran away, too scared to surrender.

If the almost constant butterflies in her stomach were anything to go by, then it was _definitely_ a date.

She diverted things ever so slightly by fixating on the issue of what in the hell she was going to wear. She'd promised herself that she wasn't going to buy anything new for at least another month, which she was sorely regretting now. She was going to have to get outfits for the tour, anyway, so it seemed pretty redundant. Hours were spent rifling through her wardrobe once she got home from work, notebook and pen kept at a safe distance.

After trying everything on three times she settled on a coral dress with a chiffon three-quarter length skirt. A little more sophisticated than what she'd worn last time, which made her reconsider for a couple of moments. She teamed it with a red bolero jacket which was just about suitable for a fall evening. She tied a sash of the same shade around her waist, and toyed with the idea of pinning a silk flower in her hair, her favourite record on repeat once more in her head.

There was as much pain as there was pleasure in the thought of replicating that night play for play, so she left it alone.

A bouquet of real flowers was delivered on Wednesday afternoon, her mother getting to them first. She had already said that she was going to dinner, and once the flowers had arrived, there was little point in lying about who was accompanying her.

She couldn't help from admiring them every ten minutes or so, picking up the card that was nestled within and holding it in her freshly-painted pink fingernails.

_I hope my choice doesn't offend you._

"Is that meant to be some kind of joke?" Mama enquired, peering over her shoulder. "I don't understand. Surely he doesn't need to be funny _all_ of the time. Or at least, attempt to be."

"It's a defence mechanism. Off-stage he's painfully shy."

The way Mama tilted her head to the side told that she wasn't convinced.

"Really, it's an outlet for him. I'd bring him up to say hello but there's a good chance he'd fall to pieces. Then I'd be eating alone and God knows what kind of men I'd attract."

Papa huffed something from his armchair, face hidden behind a newspaper.

"See, Papa thinks it's funny. Or maybe it's the thought of me ordering two dinners. I have done worse in the past."

"I just don't think it's a very good grounding, to be constantly 'performing'." Mama threw up her arms in an overly-dramatic gesture, and she refrained from making a quip about it running in the family. "How are we meant to trust anything that comes out of his mouth?"

"I wasn't aware this was a family outing. It's a little late to alter the reservation. Anyway, I can decipher the code. It's a comedian thing, Mama, you wouldn't understand."

There was a sigh that followed her use of the 'c' word. Life would be so much easier for poor Mama if she had given it up.

"There's a time and a place, is all. I can imagine it would get tiring after a while, and very complicated. Don't you think so, Abe?"

Papa lowered his newspaper long enough to comment. "It's dinner, Rose. Not a proposal of marriage."

This was said in such a nonchalant way that it pulled her up slightly.

"At this point, perhaps that wouldn't be such a bad thing."

Okay, now things had got _really_ surreal.

"Mama!"

"Well, you won't consider anyone I suggest. And if you will insist on going down this path, then I'd rather you didn't do it on your own."

"Now you are leaping light years ahead."

"It was very considerate to give the preface, I will say that," Papa remarked, looking thoughtful. "Honest. An admirable quality in any man."

"Well, clearly my real parents were abducted by aliens and replaced with whoever you two imposters are while I was at work. I'm going to say goodnight to Ethan and Esther before I go. I won't be back late. Please, don't make any arrangements while I'm gone, like calling the rabbi."

Feeling utterly perplexed was not the way she had wanted to start the evening, but thankfully that air lifted as soon as she saw Lenny waiting on the pavement. Before he noticed her she caught him adjusting the knot of his tie and smoothing back his hair with the palm of his hand. She liked having the chance to see him unaware.

"You know how to cause a stir, Bruce."

"The doctors say I'll grow out of it eventually." She appreciated the way his eyes appraised her, akin to how he would every so often take a long and luxurious drag on a cigarette. "If I may say, you look exquisite."

"Why, thank you." The twist of her hips was instinctive, the accentuated late evening breeze causing her skirts to float out. "Had to go with my favorite color for my favorite person. Just don't tell Susie. Or old Mrs. Levinson. The kids' school fund depends on the amount she spends each week at the beauty counter."

"My lips are sealed. Your carriage awaits," he stepped down from the sidewalk and she followed close behind, stopping at the edge, "as soon as I can flag it down."

She wouldn't have minded walking, though she didn't know how far away the restaurant was, but as it was she was a fan of the chivalry so there were no complaints.

The ride took no longer than five minutes and what with the way they fell into easy conversation she forgot all about her curiosity of where exactly he was taking her. Instead, she told him everything there was to know about the tour, now she had signed on the dotted line and it was all official. It was hard to believe that the first gig was less than a week away. Life was becoming something of a whirlwind again, but this time around she was determined not to let herself be carried away. Plus she had the night ahead to enjoy first, and perhaps there could even be another squeezed in before she headed off on the road.

Lenny paid the driver in full, despite her insisting that it was more than fine for her to pay half the fare, and he got out of the cab first so that he could go round and open the door for her. _Always the gentleman_. He stepped back and said nothing; just let her take the frankly beautiful sight in. It felt a little like she was staring up at the bright lights of the Apollo again, with none of the bitterness that came afterwards. She had never seen this place before and didn't know why, considering how its aesthetic fitted her like a pair of custom-made gloves. For a few minutes she pondered the real possibility that he had magicked it out of thin air.

He did expand upon the selection once they were inside, and she heard him perfectly clearly even as she became completely absorbed by the authentic French atmosphere, allowing him to slip the jacket delicately from her shoulders.

"I know it won't be too long before you're there for real, but until then I wanted to bring Europe to you. As a consolation." He was in front of her again, his gaze studying her face as though he was going to take a test the next day. "You haven't burst into tears, so I'm going to take that as a positive."

She couldn't wipe the grin from her face, and though there were tears threatening to spill from her eyes and make an unholy mess of her mascara, they were undoubtedly of the wildly happy variety.

"You know, you are very sweet when you put your mind to it."

"Next time I see the doctor he's going to have to take a look at that as an emergency."

The maître d looked as though he had walked right from one of the rues of Paris, along with everything else in the vicinity. They were shown to a table towards the back of the restaurant, complete with candlelight and a single pink rose in a slender vase. For a little while she wondered whether the swirling sensation in her stomach, peppered with deepening affection and fevered excitement, would prevent her from eating anything past the smallest bite. She needn't have worried; as soon as the starters were presented, her appetite surged with its usual ferocity. Still, she was mindful of not wolfing it or the main course down, wanting to reflect at least some of the daintiness and sophistication of the surroundings.

Lenny didn't mind. If anything, he appeared to enjoy how she was savoring the meal, drinking her in along with the wine.

She leaned back in the finely-crafted chair, glass held in hand, trying not to obsess over the way he was looking at her.

"So, you like it?"

"It certainly has atmosphere," she replied, feeling wrapped completely in warmth which was only very partially to do with the wine. "My mother would go crazy for this place. She would set up camp right about there," she gestured towards an unoccupied table a little further front and to the right, "which is why I'm never telling her of its existence."

"That seems a little harsh."

"I'm telling you, she's obsessed. You know she ran away to Paris once? Like the circus, but a more typically Jewish rebellion. For a while I'd resigned myself to the thought of gaining a stepfather called Jean-Pierre and having to learn French if I wanted the hope of ever speaking to her again."

She saw him bite back a smile while he reached into his pocket for his cigarettes. That was one item that had been neglected for inclusion on the table.

"I have a confession to make," he began, offering her a pick first before drawing one out himself, "though I can assure you, there was no prior consultation ahead of tonight. I don't think I can even call your parents _acquaintances_ , though being in a cell next to your father does color our relationship somewhat."

"Excuse me, what?"

He proceeded to fill her in on the story while she listened, dumbfounded. She didn't know which part to find more unbelievable, although it had been Papa's turn for a midlife crisis lately and what with those activist students he'd been 'mentoring'…still, it was little wonder that he hadn't wanted to mention a stint in jail. She felt a surge of pride though, knowing that it was her defence of Lenny that caused her father to go and see for himself just how important comedy could be.

Then that he was willing to be arrested defending Lenny; well, maybe the apple didn't fall far from the tree after all. It was starting to make sense now, the whole display before she had left and the fact that he had been surprisingly easygoing about her going to dinner with the most notorious comedian out there.

There was a little more work to be done on Mama, evidently, but judging by her quick turnaround she was already swiftly rethinking her first impression. Now she couldn't help from thinking about the possibility of Lenny bailing out both her and her mother, perhaps after some misogynistic meatheads turned up at a gig specifically to heckle her, just for the neatness of completing the circle.

At least it wouldn't be quite so awkward in future if things did happen to progress between them.

_Who's getting ahead of themselves now?_

It wasn't helping that he spoke so warmly about them either.

"And while I'm on a roll, there's something else I have to tell you."

"Oh god, don't tell me you met Joel too." Try as she might she couldn't come up with anything good about that scenario, other than Joel going out of his mind with fear about being in a cell for the shortest amount of time.

"I can't say I've had that pleasure yet."

"Trust me, it would be anything but. And I speak from years of unfortunate experience."

His eyebrows shot up and he threw her a smirk across the table, as if to say that he could do far better. Maybe she was reading too much into that.

She also had little doubt that he could outperform her ex-husband on every level imaginable.

"I did give you my word that I would give you the exclusive," he said, the waving of his hand creating intricate patterns of smoke dancing upon the air, "really, I'm still not convinced it's actually going to come off. A week is like a year in this business; four months is an eternity. With any luck the apocalypse is going to happen before then."

"Not if I can help it," she smiled brightly, while he remained unforthcoming. "Out with it, then."

He brought both hands to his face for a moment or two, looking as though he was in physical pain.

"Saying it out loud makes it real. Okay, here goes. I'm playing Carnegie Hall next year. Withholding impending arrest, or should I say, _arrests_ plural."

"Oh my god! Lenny, that's amazing! I am so happy for you, and not at all jealous. Maybe like five per cent, but nothing more than that."

He smiled at her, appearing a little less uncomfortable.

"What did I tell you? I just can't believe they didn't book you before now. Hey, maybe I can do a sideline from now on. Psychic readings after a gig. God knows I need all the help I can get." She was quick to realise before she ventured down an egotistical rabbit hole. "But this is about you, and how you deserve this _so_ much. Because you really do. More than anyone else."

"Well, I guess we'll wait and see what the critics say. You should know that I am absolutely crediting you for this, by the way. You speak and the ancient gods seem to listen."

She could feel herself flushing ever so slightly. "It makes a change from my usual crowd. So I'm getting a front-row ticket, right?"

"You think I'd even make it out there otherwise?"

She smiled, feeling like she might need to excuse herself to go to the bathroom and let out a scream of pure joy. She really was completely delighted for him, much more than she would be if she were on the bill.

"Excuse me?" she raised her hand as the maître d walked past their table. "May we have a bottle of your finest champagne?"

"Certainly, madame."

"It's okay, it's on me," she assured, being better off for not contributing to the cab fare, "Mrs. Levinson has got a good few years left, and Esther's not starting school for a while either so she won't even notice anything's missing."

The maître d reappeared with two flutes and a towel draped over his arm, which thankfully he did not need as he did the honours.

"Should we say a few words, or…?" Lenny asked, refraining from lifting his glass into the air.

She moved triumphantly, watching as he mirrored her position.

"Here's to the best gigs being yet to come. Carnegie Hall and getting back on tour. To never giving up. And to not fucking up."

"Here's to defying all known laws of nature," he added.

"Even if nobody fucks up better than we do, we're still not gonna do it!"

There was something hypnotizing about watching him sip champagne, even more so than anything else he did. His eyes stayed on her all the while, only giving her respite when he retrieved the bottle from the centre of the table to refill her glass. They went on talking and making jokes, and she couldn't stop herself from giggling, not being able to blame it on the champagne.

He had absolutely no right to be so charming, all the goddamn time.

"So, is this going to be a regular thing? When we're both in the same place, that is." She toyed with the stem of her flute, attempting to deflect from the nerves she felt.

The pause before he answered was applied for effect, she was certain, but at the same time she felt a thrill to be kept waiting.

"Wednesdays or Paris? Because if it's the latter, then I'm gonna have to play Carnegie at least a couple more times first to be able to afford the airfare."

She replied with a laugh worthy of his retort, taking a long swig from her glass and letting the bubbles dissipate on her tongue before it was time to flick the switch to _serious._

"You know, Miami was the best night I've had in a long time. Honestly." She paused to take a breath, needing to do so after reigniting everything that simmered between them. "I mean, those donuts were just divine. I've searched high and low for them since, but no such luck."

_Great_ , there she was deflecting again.

Another inhale and exhale to reset, while he stared at her, and she felt like she was back there, just waiting to burn.

"I made the wrong decision," she said, looking him straight in the eye. Laying her heart on the line. "I was overwhelmed and caught up…but I'm done with excuses. It's not fair to you. I was stupid, straight up. I've regretted it ever since."

He lit up another cigarette, and she started to panic inwardly. _What if he wasn't on the same page? What if he left it behind when she walked away?_

_You really shouldn't have said anything._

"Forget I said anything. Other than I'm sorry. And I just totally spoilt this evening. Talk about not fucking up…"

"Midge. You haven't spoilt anything. You don't need to explain anything to me."

She felt hope expanding in her chest.

"Look, I just took it to be one of those things. I knew you had a lot on your mind and honestly, I just wanted to take you away from that for a little while. So to me, it was a success."

"Lenny." Again, he was being too nice to her and it was breaking her heart.

"It was probably a good thing. About five minutes after I closed the door out came the biggest cockroach scurrying from underneath the bed. I should have charged it rent, I'd be a lot better off than I currently am."

They spoke the same language, and so she knew that deep down he was hurting. And that it was her fault.

"I said I'd be home early tonight, but I could make a call."

Everything stopped; the world narrowed to take in her breath turning to static and him in front of her.

She wasn't going to pass up another chance to be with him.

"Midge."

Her name sounded so good – special – when it came from his lips.

"Give me two minutes." Her heart was beating so frantically she could feel it everywhere. "Unless you don't want that."

There was nothing hotter on the earth than the way he stared at her, looking past everything on the surface and right into her soul.

"I think you know what I want."

His voice was the sexiest she'd ever heard it, and her mind flooded with thoughts, not leaving a lot of room for the flow of oxygen.

"Okay," she uttered, bracing her hands against the chair.

"Madame? You are Mrs. Maisel?"

It took her a few moments to properly register the maître d standing behind her, voice at her shoulder.

"Yes. Well, technically it's Ms. Weissman." Her eyes went to Lenny – they'd only left him for the matter of seconds – affirming that there was nothing standing in their way this time. "But yes, I do go by that name. In very different circumstances to these."

"There is a telephone call for you."

"Thank you," she answered, and as he moved to another table, she told Lenny "whoever it is, I'll get rid of them quickly."

"Take your time," he replied, fingertips edging against the open carton, "I'm not going anywhere."

It was probably Susie, who had a habit of calling at the most inappropriate of times, and who also wouldn't take offence at the obscenities she was undoubtedly going to deliver for interrupting such a moment.

Papa's voice was calm and steady, reliable as always, but he sounded strange too. All she could do was listen, and she didn't manage to do that correctly, missing vital pieces of information. He had to ask if she was still on the line and she made an appropriate sound. Seconds later she told him that she loved him, a fact she didn't state nearly enough.

"Midge."

She was still hearing the echo of her father's voice when Lenny spoke. He could tell that something was wrong, changing himself like a chameleon.

"Esther…they took her to the hospital. She was burning up and wouldn't sleep…there were other things but I couldn't…"

Her words got caught as the room and the entirety of the world spun around her.

"I have to go," she uttered after what felt like hours being struck dumb, her fingers fumbling with her purse, "how much was…?"

"Don't worry about that. I'll take care of it."

"But…"

"Midge, I'm good. Despite my assertions otherwise."

He left more than what was required in the way of notes on the table, and before she was aware was at her side, helping her with her jacket. She could feel her shoulders shuddering, couldn't make them stop, and his hands stayed there for a while, which she appreciated.

"I asked if they could call a cab. It shouldn't take long."

He nodded. "That's good."

"Will you come with me? Just for the ride there. I don't expect you to…and that's if you've got nowhere else…"

She regretted adding that last bit, even with everything.

"Of course, if you want me to."

"I do."

She wanted to smile, but wasn't quite convinced that it had come off.

"If she's anything like her mother, then she's going to be just great."

He held an arm out and she didn't hold back from propping herself against him, letting him lead them out into the street and getting them both into the cab when both time and motion felt like it had stopped frozen.

Her senses were still numb but she could hear him talking, telling her jokes to keep her distracted. Next time she'd laugh, she promised, but he said it was fine; _it's not like I'm keeping count, right now, anyway._

At some point on the ride she'd reached her hand out and he had taken it into his.

Now they'd pulled up outside the hospital their fingers were still twined together. She looked at him while she loosened her hold, feeling a little lost when she let go completely.

"Thank you."

There lay the smallest hint of a comforting smile as he tilted his head fractionally towards her. "I would say _any time_ , but I hope it's isolated."

"Double the kids, double the risk." She waited for her heart to stop beating so sickeningly fast in her chest. "I'm scared."

"I know," he replied, "that is, I can imagine."

Sometimes she forgot that he had a daughter. He didn't talk about her that often, but whenever he did he absolutely lit up.

"I gotta get out."

He nodded.

She stared at him, wishing things were different. Then she leaned over, bracing her hand against his shoulder for support and kissed him on the cheek.

Her lips tingled from the contact, and even as she was filled head to toe with fear she couldn't stop herself from smiling.

"I really want to kiss you properly."

"It'll keep."

She inhaled deeply, breaking gaze with him (it felt a little too intense right then) and reaching into her purse. He protested but she gave him the fare that would see him back insistently, knowing it was the least she could do.

The coldness of the night air hit her with force when she got out of the cab, waking her up from the dream she'd been in.

"Take care, Midge. Let me know how she is, yeah?"

She nodded, waving her hand towards the cab before turning sharply on her heels.

She knew that it was still there as she broke into an almost-run towards the door of the hospital but didn't look back, knowing it would just about tip her over the edge.

* * *

It was going to be fine for her to join the tour a couple of dates after the start. Susie had squared it with the promoter, who didn't want to lose her and agreed that she could keep her full pay. It was too much of a generous offer for her to back out completely, though the thought had crossed her mind. _Maybe it's another sign._

Thankfully Esther was out of the hospital after a couple of days, and really that had been a precautionary measure. She couldn't help but thinking that the doctors were as relieved as she was to have them gone, what with the combined force of Papa, Moishe and Shirley. Mama had been too shaken to say anything much and Joel barely held it together, which she couldn't blame him about; she wasn't a whole lot better.

It was only because of Lenny that she'd had the strength to even face it. She'd called him later the same night, when she hadn't been able to sleep on the uncomfortable seats and she'd got most of the tears out of her system, to let him know that while things weren't great, at least they weren't terrible.

They'd talked again, when Esther was home and she was too, having called in to B. Altman where luckily one of the girls said she could fill in on her remaining shifts before the tour started. He wished her well, saying that he'd try his best to come and see her on a couple of dates, other commitments permitting. He might even pick up some inspiration for Carnegie, he'd said, and she told him that she definitely wanted in on a cut if that was the case. Maybe even a warm-up spot, if it happened to be available.

She wasn't serious about that, but she did hope that she might run into him again soon. It was best not to make any firm plans; the universe seemed to prefer it when at least one of them was taken by surprise.

It was early afternoon; she'd not long put Esther down for a nap and sat by her bedside reading until she was absolutely sure that her little girl was asleep before daring to leave her. Less than five minutes had passed when the bell rang, echoing like a siren in the apartment. She scurried to the door, keeping one ear open for Esther's wails, determined for it to not go off again in the case that luck was on her side and her daughter had remained soundly sleeping.

"Special delivery," the cheery, red-cheeked boy holding a substantial box in both hands chirruped, handing it over to her, "enjoy!"

"Well, I hope so. Although if it's from my ex-husband then I'll pay you to drive five hundred miles north and start a discreet fire in the woods. Nobody will ever know, I promise you."

She carried the box to the kitchen, resisting the urge to take a peek until she'd put it down on the table. Maybe it was a hat she'd completely forgotten about ordering, arriving just in time to take with her. There was a card held half-beneath the white and pink ribbons that held it closed, which she opened swiftly.

_You never got to have dessert,_ _and in case Miami isn't on the list this time._

_Give them hell, Upper West Side._

A grin burst onto her face as she took in the sight of the familiar donuts, holding one with a thick layer of chocolate frosting aloft and sighing in satisfaction when she took a bite. Absolutely amazing, just like she had remembered.

She might be able to save one to take with her, if it could keep that long.

At the very least, it was one craving taken care of.


	3. Chapter 3

One year had slipped almost unnoticed into the next, which was something that she had been glad about. As much as 1960 had had its highs it was the lows which figured larger in her mind, and she was still working hard to get past them while at the same time not allowing herself to forget completely. It would be the easiest thing to fall back into her old ways, especially when the days were cold, the nights were quiet and people preferred to stay at home rather than make tracks to a club to only half-listen to a comedienne talk about the trials and tribulations of her existence.

And just like that, January was nearly over, too.

The tour had gone great. So great that the organisers extended it for a final flurry; not to overdo things, just to ride the wave for a little longer. Susie worked out a deal which allowed her to be at home for Hanukkah, and pretty much as soon as the candles had stopped burning she was off again. She loved the feeling of her feet not touching the ground, spending every minute from when she woke up preparing for the next gig. It gave her the energy that she thrived upon and which she had been missing for too long. If Susie had said that the organisers had wanted to go on for another twelve months non-stop she would have been more than happy to keep on going. When she thought about it there weren't a lot of things that she missed about New York not to see it for another year.

Some of those things weren't permanent fixtures, anyway.

The distance gave her time to think, nicely balanced with the prospect of a gig almost every night (her off-nights she used as a chance to catch up on sleep, completely sensibly). There had been some calls and the occasional letter but Lenny hadn't been out to see her, even though she had kept him updated with her itinerary. She hadn't been disappointed; that was the way of life for both of them, and it likely meant that he was busy with gigs of his own (and hopefully not spending his time in and out of jail cells), which she couldn't be anything but happy about. If she hadn't been at the time she was glad now that nothing had happened between them the night he'd taken her to dinner before she had started the tour. She had been acting too impulsively, trying to over-compensate when there had been no real reason to. Not to mention that if she hadn't come home that night the reason why would have been completely obvious to her parents, which would have been embarrassing.

Something had changed for her that night, though, and it was only with the blessing of time and space that she'd been able to fully realise it. She'd been so hung up before about all the things that could go wrong, when really she had no evidence for them. Too busy listening to the voice in her head that told her that taking things further with Lenny was going to ruin the precious bond they had. _It's a lonely business,_ it would say, _you've got something good here, and we both know what your capacity for crashing and burning is. Don't risk it._ She'd been believing that for so long. It was what had made her walk away in Miami, even when her heart had been aching. She'd woken up face down on that sun lounger with a hell of a lot more than a crick in her neck.

It was obvious that there was something more, unspoken and as yet unexplored between them, and she was certain now that she didn't want to let it go to waste. More than that, she _couldn't._ It was physically impossible. There was nothing to say that friends couldn't be lovers and vice versa, right? Granted, she hadn't any first-hand experience of that. She and Joel had only really become true friends since they had separated, and Benjamin…well, maybe they could have stayed friendly if things hadn't turned out the way they had, but in truth she wasn't all that convinced. He would have been more likely to have gone for tea and to lunch clubs with Mama, which really was the problem all along.

It was different with Lenny. It was unexplainable, but that's what she liked about it. The possibility, the unpredictability. And yet, even with all of that, she had the feeling that whatever happened it would turn out all right.

If only they could stop missing their chances.

She'd been back for just about a week when she decided to give him a call, no longer willing to wait for the universe to throw them together again – that'd been done too many times. It took a while for him to answer and she had intended to make a crack about it, but she was just so glad to hear his voice again. She hadn't realised how much she missed him until right then.

The ten-minute conversation ended in plans to meet the next day in Riverside Park. She wasn't sure why she had suggested there, but she figured that a change of scenery would be nice. The thought also occurred to her that she didn't think she had ever seen him in daylight hours, other than when she had bailed him out. If it hadn't have been for those occasions she would have seriously considered whether he only existed between dusk and dawn.

She wondered if he'd be punctual or reasonably late, but ended up running against the clock herself. It was around quarter of an hour past the time they had agreed upon – somewhat casually, she was glad to say – when she got there. He was sitting on a bench, arms folded tight against his chest, quickly unfurling himself when he saw her. She found herself running over to him, diving into his arms for a hug.

The time melted like the ice that had marked the morning; for a little while she wasn't sure whether the tour hadn't been something she'd hallucinated.

"This is different," he said as they pulled back from one another, his hands burrowing in the pockets of his trenchcoat.

"New year," she said by way of explanation, throwing her arms out, "and Tu Bishvat coming up. Gotta celebrate those trees."

"That's very frum of you."

"Oh, you know, any excuse."

It was only now that she noticed she was being a little exaggerated. She stepped back on her heels, seeing his face better in the light. He looked pale, dark shadows circled beneath his eyes. A pang of worry went through her; she wanted to wrap him up again, but couldn't decide which one of them that would have been better for.

"Let's take a walk," she extended her arm towards him, pleased when he adjusted his stance so that she could loop it through his own, "before we get frozen to the spot."

She certainly had better ideas than a park on a particularly cold winter's day, but she endeavoured to make the most of things now that they were here.

He knew a little about the tour but she went into detail, recalling bits that went down particularly well and the quirks of certain venues. When she was finished with all of that she let him know about the stuff she had coming up, a couple of shows where she was second or third in line to the headliner. Nothing solo as of yet but it was no big deal; she was working up to that, and in fairness it was probably good for keeping her grounded.

She quickly realised that wasn't completely true; she had a gig that very night at Joel's club. She'd been putting off playing there since it opened, worried about how it would look and not wanting to make things awkward, especially not after the whole divorce-remarrying-divorcing again fiasco. But she also conceded that she probably did owe him a favour and once they'd agreed that he wasn't going to pay her directly it felt decidedly less strange. She wasn't planning to make a habit of it, though; once in a while was more than enough. After tonight then hopefully she wouldn't play there again for a year or more, but she supposed it was a good thing to do as well. It was certainly growth for Joel, anyhow, which she wasn't going to complain about.

Lenny wasn't especially forthcoming with what was happening for him, which wasn't anything new. There was Carnegie, of course, which was just over a week away. If things had been different she would have told him that she wanted a thirty-minute preview, at the very least. As it was she stayed off the topic, sensing that he'd rather avoid it. He hadn't said much at all, other than to ask how Esther was doing, which she found very sweet.

While it wasn't entirely unusual for her to be doing most of the talking she wasn't used to him being so quiet. The longer they spent – and the more she talked – it occurred to her that she'd only seen him like this once before, ahead of Steve Allen.

"If this isn't a good time for you, then it's okay," she kept her voice deliberately soft, seeing as she was the one to drag him out in the first place and she didn't want to impose any further, "we can catch up whenever."

He looked at her blankly, almost like he was seeing through her. It took him a minute or so to reply, though it felt longer.

"No…Midge, no, really. It's good."

"Are you sure? Because as much as I do like the sound of my own voice, it kinda feels like a one-way street right now. Not that I don't appreciate you listening. Maybe it feels like such a foreign concept to me that it's making me antsy…okay, Miriam, shut up."

He smiled weakly at her, bringing a hand to his face.

"I haven't slept in four days and I'm pretty sure it's done something irreversible to my brain."

"Oh god, Lenny."

"It's fine," he says, quicker now, like it's his job to reassure her, "it's not like it's a new experience for me, even if it is very inconvenient."

"Still, if I would have known…"

He shook his head faintly, murmured something she imagined might be an apology of some kind; not that he needed to be sorry.

"Have you eaten?" she asked.

"In the last four days? A few things."

She frowned at him and he looked suitably rebuked.

"Yeah, I had something just before. Not that it was really that edible, but it did okay."

"Well, we have two options. We can go for something sufficiently better to eat, or I can take you home."

"How forward, Ms. Weissman," he said, a hint of humor in his voice which made her hopeful. "There isn't a third?"

"I guess we could catch a plane to somewhere. Give me a half hour to pack a bag or ten, and also to raid a bank."

"Home it is," he answered.

"Okay then," she smiled, "I do have enough money for a cab."

He looked at her with pleading, heavy eyes; she could easily see now how weary he was. He had been carrying it for years, not merely days, and she always wanted to pretend that she couldn't see it.

There was so much that she couldn't hide from anymore.

"You'll stay, Midge?" he uttered, "for a little while."

She was a little thrown-off, though she hadn't wanted their meeting to come to an end just yet.

"If you want me to," she replied.

"I do. And not just because I'm sick and tired of my own company, although that is also a factor."

"Then I'm happy to oblige." She squeezed the arm that she was still holding, casually, as if they were like any other couple walking through the park. "It'll be nice to go somewhere warm, too. I think I'm about a minute away from permanently losing the feeling in my feet."

"Good thing I managed to pay the bills last month, otherwise I couldn't guarantee that."

* * *

While the heat in his apartment wasn't what could be called _tropical_ , it was a damn sight warmer than being outside at the peak of winter in the city. She couldn't stop herself from taking a quick glance around when he opened the door, which had not been locked (she made a mental note to talk about that later; now was not the time to act like his mother…well, she doubted that _any_ time was a good time for that). He had made some off-hand remarks before; typical Lenny, full of good-humored self-deprecation. It was a lot nicer than she was expecting, and encapsulated him perfectly – she could tell that within the space of a minute.

Having satisfied her curiosity she turned her attention swiftly back to Lenny, who was standing at the door seeming somewhat lost. Her heart clenched again. He began to speak as he realised she was there once more, saying something about a lack of hospitality, and she reassured him that it was okay. Her hand had ended up on his arm again and she used it to gently direct him on his feet, having to crane a little in her heels to take off his trenchcoat. She heard him say "thank you" and she smiled.

She took off her own coat once she had hung his up, keeping it folded against her arm as there wasn't another hook. While she had the urge to help him take off his shoes too it occurred to her that it would seem like jumping several steps forward, something that was deeply intimate. She wasn't sure that he'd really mind. He had toed them off before she could think about it any further, and she kept her eyes upon him, seeing that he was relaxing again, slowly, now that he was back in his own environment and could drop any pretence. She asked him if he wanted anything, even though she didn't know where anything was. She could take a pretty good guess at where the whiskey was.

He shook his head, fixed his eyes upon her.

It was more than a little stupid, but the feeling struck her that this was the closest they'd ever been to one another.

He sat down on the sofa at one corner of the room and she followed, once she had switched the light on – it was already getting dark outside, even though it wasn't evening yet. She hung her coat over the arm next to her and shuffled a little, making herself comfortable. Her heels were off and she bent to arrange them, her toes thanking her as well as Lenny. He offered her one of the blankets that were strewn there and she accepted with a smile, draping it over her shoulders. She got the picture of him wrapped in them, working there in all hours, pen in hand and bottle at his feet. He'd probably end up lying there too, sleeping in this very spot in the days and weeks before.

She sat rather straight at first but quickly relaxed, turning so that her body was facing him. Her right arm propped itself on the back of the sofa and her head propped against her arm.

"So," she began.

"So," he replied. He was mirroring her pose.

"Pretty nice set-up you've got here."

"Oh, you know. It could be a lot worse. No cockroaches, at least."

"Always a plus."

He nodded in agreement, and then they slipped into a comfortable silence which felt as warm as the blanket she had around her. It really was nice, not to have any expectation or to be 'on'. While she acknowledged the weight of words unspoken she let them drift to the back of her mind. Right now, she was concerned about him and she admitted to herself that she didn't really know what to say or do to make whatever was going on for him better.

Perhaps she didn't have to do anything. Perhaps it was enough for her to be there, like he had asked.

"I guess you've tried counting sheep," she ended up saying, "though last I checked they're pretty elusive in Brooklyn. You'd probably need to try Staten Island. Raccoons are kinda similar."

"With the amount I've been drinking, then sure."

She suspected that it wasn't just booze he'd been partaking of in the last few days. Just because she couldn't see anything to hand didn't mean that it wasn't there. That was his business, and she wasn't going to pry.

"Maybe getting it out into the open will do the trick." She pulled up her legs onto the wide cushion, tucking her feet beneath her. "If you want to. You know that I owe you a lot more than cab fare in terms of repaying the favour."

He stretched his legs out in front of him, leant his head back and exhaled a sigh as he did so. She watched as he righted himself, contemplating his hands as they lay flat in his lap. That in itself was a change from the norm; she was so used to following them as he punctuated whatever he was saying with a jab of his fingers or circling the air.

"Well, it's nothing you haven't heard before. And you might think I come across as sounding needlessly sorry for myself in the circumstances."

"No," she tipped her head to the side, leaning against the palm of her hand, "I'm here without judgment."

He smiled just a little. "Where else am I going to get that?"

"Exactly, so you might as well make the most of it," she answered, keeping her voice light.

He put his hands to the back of his head, having kept them still for long enough. She was more than a little fascinated by the way he trailed the backs of his fingers at his neck, like he didn't even know what he was doing. He probably didn't, and she was just being ridiculous and more than a little inappropriate.

"I think you have known me long enough to know that I am not an idealistic person," he said, "and I don't consider myself to be particularly fulfilled either. But you know, that's okay, not everyone gets that. And I don't mind, really, even if saying as such automatically appears as a contradiction."

She felt sad for him, wanted to whisper his name as though that would make a difference.

"When I got Carnegie, it was a rush of adrenaline. Another shot at the big-time after going back into the wilderness again." His words were coming faster now. "There was a dread, too. Like it was this monolith staring straight at me, this unconquerable mountain. You know, I have dreamt about it at least three times a week since it was confirmed. Each time I think I'm getting closer to the reality of it, and I feel…hollow."

"Stage fright is understandable. I think _someone_ might have even told me that it was a good thing." She was referencing a conversation they'd had long ago, when she had freaked out about playing a place that meant she couldn't see the changing expressions on the audience's faces. "You've got this. There's no way on this earth that you're going to bomb."

Well, she knew she couldn't guarantee for certain that that wasn't going to happen – everyone had their off nights – but she knew well enough. Lenny had a dedicated following; he could read the white pages front to back and it would go down a storm.

"It's not even about bombing. You get to my position and there are other things to worry about."

 _Plenty_ , he didn't say. He stared at the wall facing them, and she could only imagine that all of those things had chosen this moment to make themselves known in their entire capacities.

When he looked at her again, her breath caught in her throat.

"And you also realise – or I should say, _I_ realise, because I don't mean to generalise – that the things I think I want are, for the most part, illusions."

She moved closer to him, putting her hand on his arm. Somehow she felt that action spoke louder than words right now. His mouth quirked in acknowledgment.

"I still think you're going to kill it, if it's any consolation."

"It is," he replied with a wisp of a smile on his pretty lips. "As you're going to be there, I'll make an extra effort. Plus, they'll pay me whatever, so that will keep Honey happy for a few days. She's being especially difficult at the moment, which is making things all the more fun. I'm kind of surprised that the cops didn't make a special trip to see me here, given some of the telephone conversations I've had with her lately. Sorry, you don't need to hear…"

"It's okay," she assured him, "I'm sorry for you that things aren't easier."

"A lot of folks would say it's nothing less than I deserve."

"A lot of folks aren't worth bothering with."

They knew Lenny Bruce as a name, a figure that conservatives liked to trash and hold personally responsible for everything that was wrong with the world. They didn't know Lenny Bruce the man, how supportive and sweet and full of integrity he was.

"Whatever way I look at it," he said, "and however it goes, I keep seeing it as the pinnacle. There's only one route from here, and it's hurtling faster and faster towards me. I just have to roll with it, you know?"

She shook her head, unwilling to believe what he said or thought, for perhaps the first time since she had known him as a friend.

"So many good things are going to happen, this is only the start. You're going to step off that stage and the world is going to fall at your feet." She was smiling so wide at the thought, knowing that she'd be cheering him on all the way. "You're going to be able to do whatever you want. Within reason."

He laughed at her addition, which gave her a warm feeling that started in the pit of her stomach and swiftly spread like wildfire.

"I am truly grateful for your faith in me."

She was going to tell him that _it was going to be okay_ , but anyone could say that.

"I believe in you," she said instead, smiling as she did so. Recalling how he had lifted her up when she had been at rock-bottom. She could see that he remembered too; it wasn't too long ago, after all. "You didn't think it meant much for me to hear that from you. But honestly, it meant the world. It still does, and it always will."

The hand that hadn't left his arm finally did move upwards to touch his face. She was struck by how he didn't flinch or seem at all surprised as she traced her fingers over his jaw, caught completely in the moment while also being aware of his gaze heavy upon her. She got a little more confident, cupping her palm to his cheek, smiling at him softly. Inching closer and closer, just to get a better look.

That's what she told herself for all of a second.

Lenny's hand landed on her knee, and she looked down at it sitting there, searing heat against her stockings.

His eyes compelled hers back and she didn't know who moved first. Maybe they did so together, drawn into each other inescapably.

Their lips brushed light, delicate. She knew in the moment that it was beautiful. Her thumb rubbed against the stubble of his cheek and his fingers caressed her second skin. An increase in touch paved the way for the kiss to develop, too, and she liked the sequence of events.

Her hand slipped to his neck, her fingers losing their grip, and she could feel the quickened pulse, knew that hers matched it for every beat. Lenny's fingers tangled into her hair and she released a little muffled squeak of approval against his mouth, getting onto her knees and almost falling against him as she went closer still, wanting so much to melt into him, completely ready to surrender.

He was breathing hard as he pulled back, leaving her gently. The feel of his lips lingered for a few moments as the world settled back into place.

"Midge…"

"I know," she said, giving a little nod of her head. Her heart was flying away from her grasp, her head spinning like a merry-go-round.

She was convinced that any other guy would have pressed on, ignored what was in front of them both.

Still, the tide had shifted and they were both aware, which was a huge leap.

A silence settled around them and she didn't feel shy or awkward. After a few moments of just looking at each other – which had evidently become their _thing_ – Lenny plucked at her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing her fingers one by one before pressing his lips to her palm. It was a wonderful consolation, making her tingle from top to toe.

"I gotta make a call," she uttered when five minutes had passed.

"You don't need to," he began, holding onto her hand as she unfurled herself.

"I do," she answered, smiling softly and reluctantly pulling away, "I'm not going anywhere else tonight. It won't take more than a couple of minutes. You should go lie down." She gestured towards what she assumed was the door to his bedroom. "You'll be more comfortable."

She watched as he sloped off, walking backwards at first so that he could still look at her, which made her giggle. She waited until he was out of sight to dial, having formulated a story to tell Joel about why she couldn't play tonight. It didn't have a lot of detail but he didn't need to know; they'd been through enough shit, most of which was his doing, that things no longer needed to be elaborate. She'd say that she was sorry, sound as sweet as she could, and promise a better rate of return; a whole week if he wanted it, as well as having the kids on some of his agreed nights.

She was still relieved when it was done and he hadn't kicked up a fuss, grateful that she'd given him a few hours to work with. She rearranged the blankets on the sofa and turned off the light before she padded into the bedroom, the enormity not lost on her. Lenny was sitting on the bed in his shirt and pants, undressing as far as losing his tie and suit jacket.

"I can wait until you're completely changed," she said, ready to back away.

"It's fine," he replied, waving his hand, "these need to be washed anyway."

"Your call," she said with a smile, closing the door over behind her.

"I did dig something out for you, if you want them." She saw the pyjamas folded on the dresser. "Don't want that pretty dress getting crumpled."

"It's not as though I'm short on them," she replied, "but I will take advantage. Thank you."

He smiled before turning away from her. "I won't look."

She smiled while he didn't notice, changing into the pyjamas, appreciating both how comfortable they were and how they faintly smelled of cigarette smoke and cologne.

"All done," she announced and watched as he turned around again, this time stretching himself into a lying position, just propping his head on the heel of his hand, and his elbow against the bed. She felt relaxed herself, even more so now that she was dressed for the situation. She walked towards the bed, stopping short when she noticed the framed photograph on top of the small cabinet.

She looked at Lenny, silently asking permission to pick it up, and he nodded.

"She's beautiful," she said, the gap-toothed smile of Kitty looking out at her. "She looks like you."

His mouth curved and a look of pride came into his eyes.

"I wish I could see her more often," the sorrow in his voice hit Midge right in the chest, his bright look swiftly turning wistful, "but she has a mother too."

She put the picture back down in its place, being careful to angle it in his eyeline. She clambered onto the bed as gracefully as she was able, the pyjama bottoms falling past her feet.

"I guess when she's older she can make her own decisions. I worry that she takes it all in, the arguing and the threats. She's as sharp as a tack."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Midge smiled, laying her head onto the pillow.

"I hope that gravity can intervene," he replied. "We did a lot of stupid stuff, Honey and I. We were never right for each other. Kitty is the one good thing to come out of it all. She's the best thing to happen to me, no question."

"Of course," she replied. Even if things weren't quite the same with her and Joel she knew how that felt.

They lay there for a while, talking about stupid things that shouldn't have mattered but which grew in significance in the little space between them. She felt safe enough to tease him, saying that he ought to at least try going to sleep. He responded by closing his eyes for a couple of minutes before opening them again, each time staring at her more pronouncedly.

 _You're not even giving it a decent shot_ , she told him.

 _I find myself more than a little distracted,_ he returned, making her flush.

"You know," he said, "this is not how I pictured this."

"Me neither," she agreed, "but I like it."

"Well, that's the main thing."

She had to wonder exactly for how long he had pictured it, looking up at the ceiling briefly. There was that time just before she had gone on tour with Shy, when she had pressed him a little further than she'd had the courage to before, which she hadn't forgotten a single detail of. At the time she thought that he was playing up for her, maybe.

Her stomach burned to realise that he might not have been, after all.

"For the record," she began, "there could have been a swarm of cockroaches. Is that the official term?"

"Uh, I guess so?"

"Let's go with it. What I'm saying is nothing could put me off. Not now, anyhow. Not since I came to my senses and stopped worrying about what could go wrong."

She reached out, stroking her hand at his temple, catching the curls at his forehead.

"Because I know that nothing could," she said, her words assured and confident. "Especially not when you kiss me like that."

He smiled sleepily, his eyes blinking heavier.

"I would warn you not to get your hopes up."

"Too late," she replied, "they're already way up in the sky. You know, I think I left my head up there too."

She thought she heard him say something like _"just you wait"_ , watching him as his eyes drooped closed and he let go of the tension his body was holding. She stayed there for a while, maybe a half hour or more, seeing how he slept and hearing his steady breathing. When she got up she was careful not to disturb him, but she couldn't have spent more than an hour or so away, laying back down next to him once she had watched some TV without the sound on. She expected to be awake for a while, especially considering that it was still pretty early, but she must have drifted off quickly.

She woke to the grey-tinged sunlight and the sound of cabs honking their horns in the streets below. Her first thought was to check on Lenny but he was still sound asleep, undistracted by the noise. Checking the clock at the bedside she was more than a little surprised to find that it was quarter past nine. That meant she had slept for nearing twelve hours without interruption. She was pretty sure the last time that had happened she had been in college.

Lenny had slept even longer, unless he had got up during the night without her realising. It didn't seem so, though, given that he was in the same position as he had been when she had took her place beside him. She smiled to see him looking so peaceful, unburdened by everything he had been carrying around.

She dressed quietly, folding up the pyjamas she had borrowed and putting them back onto the dresser. Once she had fixed her hair and applied a fresh coat of lipstick, she wrote a note and left it on the pillow where she had lay, making that side look as presentable as she could. While she hoped that he didn't wake up until she got back, she was glad to have made the provision. Getting back inside the apartment block didn't bother her; there were bound to be lots of people up and about. She didn't intend to be gone that long.

He surfaced as she was stocking the cupboards up, leaning against the doorframe with his hair ruffled and clothes thoroughly crumpled.

"Hey, sleepy head. Late night?" she teased as she shut one of the open doors.

"Very early, in fact." He ran a hand over his face, inching it up to his hair. "I haven't had a sleep like that in…I can't remember _ever_ having a sleep like that."

She smiled. "It was pretty great. Some might even say a sleep like that is better than sex."

"I don't know if I'd go that far," he said, an edge to his tone that she couldn't miss, "it all depends on who you're doing it with."

She couldn't answer past a laugh and a grin. _Just you wait, indeed_.

"Now that you're up, how does breakfast sound?"

"It sounds wonderful," he replied, and then paused, "but, Midge, if I'm keeping you from being anywhere…"

"You're not. The kids are with my in-laws. _Ex_ in-laws, that is, but you know…they're really terrible as people but great at the grandparenting. For the most part." She pulled what she considered to be an alluring pose against the counter as a method of distraction. "Unless you'd prefer if I left?"

"Certainly not," he said. "I mean, to give a guy a sleep _that_ fantastic and then to go without breaking some bread…well, I'd feel pretty used."

"Lucky for you that I have higher standards than to cut and run."

She served up a feast, if she did say so herself, with conversation passing easily between them as they ate. He was looking so much better already, and she could sense that he felt better, too, although she didn't think about taking all of the credit for it.

It was a good thing she remembered what day it was, and that she had a shift at B. Altman that afternoon, else she could have easily stayed much longer.

"Okay, so I'm going to come around every day this week," she said, putting on her coat and leaning on the arm of the sofa to fix on her heels.

She was happy to see that he smiled at her, even as he began to protest. "Midge. You really don't need to."

"What else are friends for?" she answered in reply, even though she was more than sure that they were more than that now.

"To check that the other doesn't crash and burn?" he said.

"Something like that," she said, walking up to him rather than making for the door. She placed a hand against his chest, reassured by the steady beat of his heart. "Except not quite so dramatic." She smoothed his collar back into place, feeling the heat of his gaze on her. "But really, I want to. You should know that I like being your cheerleader."

She craned on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, closing her eyes for a moment, half-wanting things to be different. But there was no rush, and she wasn't lying when she said that she liked how it had gone.

"You are phenomenal," he uttered in her ear, sending sparks cascading up and down her spine.

It made it all the harder to head for the door again but he followed her, which made things a little better.

"See you soon, then, Midge."

"Sooner than you think," she replied with a smile she couldn't keep from her face, simply by looking at him. "Time does fly."

He lowered his head while he stepped back, as though he didn't want to watch her go.

"Midge?" he said, before she could leave.

She braced her hand against the door, eyes wide and smiling brightly towards him.

"This isn't an illusion, right? Just reassure me about that."

Her heart jumped up to her throat and she could have fell to the floor, if she hadn't eaten enough to see her through to dinner.

"No, it isn't," she told him, holding him as close as she could as they looked at one another. "This is the realest thing I could ever imagine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'time just before she had gone on tour with Shy' references my other Midge x Lenny fic, Stay Awake, Wait For Me. You don't need to read it to get anything that's going on in this fic, but if you're looking for some more of these two, I wouldn't want to dissuade you ;)


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